Becoming
by sinemoras09
Summary: Spare the child, for what he says are lies. Yashamaru-centric. Yashamaru, Gaara. Gen. Spoilers for chapter 548.


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_._

The baby cried. Gingerly Yashamaru picked him up and bounced him against his shoulder, looking out the window. The sun was low on the horizon and streaks of red light colored the sand. His sister had been dead for three days now.

Slowly, Yashamaru cooed and rocked and he felt the baby squirming against his chest, not so much fluff and baby fat as he was a small and delicate mouse, reaching with tiny hands to suck on Yashamaru's thumb.

xXx

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"I won't watch him," the wet nurse said.

Yashamaru opened the door to the Kazekage's chambers, listening. "He's cursed," the wet nurse said. The baby cried and the wet nurse glared, pointing. "He never sleeps! He just fusses and cries and stares at you like he's dead inside. I've never seen a child like it."

"The others are afraid of him," the housemaid said. She glanced up at the wet nurse and wrung her hands. "Kazekage-sama, we can't be with him anymore. The child's evil."

The Kazekage sighed, then rubbed his head. "He's a baby," the Kazekage said.

"But look at what he did to Juubei," the wet nurse said. She grabbed the house maid's arm, which was mottled and blue. "No child can do that, Kazekage-sama. This _thing_never sleeps. Never shuts his eyes. And when he does he turns into something else."

Yashamaru's jaw tightened. The Kazekage stood, hands behind his back and looking outside the window.

"The jibbering of weak-willed women," the Kazekage said. The two women startled. He turned and glared. "Idiots. Leave me," he said, and the two women ran, the door flying open and nearly knocking Yashamaru over.

The Kazekage made no indication he saw him, but Yashamaru stepped inside anyway.

"You were listening," the Kazekage said. Yashamaru bowed and the baby cried again; the wet nurse had left him lying on the floor.

"The child is a weapon," the Kazekage said. "That it also poops and cries is no consequence to me."

Slowly, Yashamaru stooped to pick up the baby, pressing a hand behind the baby's head and rocking gently. The crying stopped. Yashamaru looked up at the Kazekage, agonized.

"Let me watch him," Yashamaru said. The Kazekage snorted. Yashamaru stepped closer. "Please," Yashamaru said.

The Kazekage's mouth thinned. He stepped closer, then pulled back the blanket covering the baby's head.

The baby's eyes were bruised; fine blue veins criss-crossed just beneath the baby's skin.

"Perhaps it would be best if a shinobi kept it," the Kazekage said. Yashamaru held the baby tighter.

xXx

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He was pulled from active duty, tasked with around the clock care. The other medic nin watched from the sidelines, watching him with a hushed awe that reminded him of bystanders watching the defusing of a bomb.

The baby didn't sleep. Every few hours the night was punctuated by loud shrieks and cries and the baby thrashing in the crib.

"Gaara-sama, do not cry," Yashamaru said, and he picked the baby up and rocked him, rubbing soothing circles on his back and bouncing him against his shoulder.

Yashamaru walked outside, the baby on his shoulder. The night was cool and the wind kicked up a veil of sand. The baby's eyes widened. Yashamaru shifted his weight, then knelt on the ground.

"You like this?" Yashamaru said. The baby cooed. Slowly he picked up a scoop of sand. The baby squealed, delighted. "Oh, I see," Yashamaru said. The baby cooed. Yashamaru smiled.

When Yashamaru woke, he found the baby playing in the sand, and realized he had fallen asleep on the courtyard floor.

xXx

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Gaara liked soft things. Yashamaru figured this out when he found the baby snuggled against his utility vest, which had been tossed carelessly on the floor. (Thankfully there was nothing inside. Yashamaru was nothing if not careful.)

xXx

.

"Gaara-sama, you cannot go there!"

Yashamaru crawled on his hands and knees and pulled the child out from under the table, exasperated. The baby grinned and giggled and showed Yashamaru his grubby little hands which were covered from dirt and playing in the sand.

At night, Yashamaru allowed Gaara to sleep in the same bed as him; the night terrors were getting worse, and should the beast finally awaken, Yashamaru needed to make sure he was close enough to stop him, just in case things went too far.

"You look like a brand new papa," one of the house maids said, until she realized it was _Gaara_ strapped to Yashamaru's back, and her face grew visibly pale.

xXx

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He was starting to look more like his sister.

Sometimes, when Yashamaru would be doing some mundane, menial task, like mixing herbs or dressing a wound, he'd see something that would remind him of her, the color of his patient's dress or the way the light would catch the motes of sand floating in the air, and those times his throat would close and his chest would feel tight, and he would be reminded of her death all over again.

"You love him?" Yashamaru had asked. His sister smiled and nodded, a light in her eyes. "Nee-san?"

"Yes," she said. She gripped Yashamaru's hands, laughing. "Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!"

And Yashamaru looked up and tried to search the Kazekage's face, but there was nothing but shadows covering his eyes.

xXx

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They took him away when he was ten months old.

"Kazekage-sama!" Yashamaru said.

"He's old enough," the Kazekage said. Yashamaru sagged and fell to his knees and Gaara screamed and cried.

"Kazekage-sama, I beg of you!"

The door slammed shut. Yashamaru sagged on the floor.

xXx

.

When the experiments started, Yashamaru watched on the other side of the glass, heart leaping to his throat every time an exploding tag rocketed toward him, the shell of sand shielding the child as the scientists scratched down the results on pen and paper.

xXx

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"I want you to kill him," the Kazekage said.

The words echoed in Yashamaru's mind. Dully, he pulled on his flak jacket, the exploding tags tucked firmly in his vest. He could hear Gaara running happily outside.

Yashamaru followed him on the rooftop. Gaara was crying. Yashamaru watched, his heart in his throat, as Gaara curled up into himself, the little bag of medicinal creams sitting on the side.

The kunai floated, strings of chakra levitating up in the air.

xXx

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Three children were injured after the latest incident; if Yashamaru hadn't been there, they would have died. "You will do it tonight," the Kazekage said. Yashamaru nodded. Quietly he entered the room, where Gaara was trying to cut his arm with a knife. The sand leapt forward and the sand protected him, just like it would later that night.

The cut on his finger stung as he wrapped the bandage around it, thinking about Gaara's words and the look in Gaara's eyes.

xXx

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He was dying. Gaara sobbed and cried as Yashamaru struggled to breathe and fed him lies.

"You were never loved," Yashamaru said.

And he tried hard not to start to cry.

xXx

.

He was falling asleep. Yashamaru struggled to open his eyes as he fumbled with the bottle, shifting the baby's weight in his arms and trying to get him to feed.

The baby suckled. Yashamaru sat gingerly on the rocking chair, careful not to disturb Gaara's feedings.

The bottle was empty. Carefully Yashamaru took it away, then traced the chubby creases of Gaara's hand. His skin was soft and Gaara burbled happily, smiling and reaching for the bangs falling over Yashamaru's eyes.

xXx

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"What is love?" Gaara asked.

And Yashamaru smiled and told him the answer.


End file.
